


Get your Hands off my Hips

by RainWillMakeTheFlowersGrow



Series: Lyrically Inspired [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff, Inspired by Music, M/M, Nightclub, kiss my lips, very corny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:14:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainWillMakeTheFlowersGrow/pseuds/RainWillMakeTheFlowersGrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exams are over and Enjolras is letting himself relax a little... with Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get your Hands off my Hips

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about how corny this is. I was gonna post it late last night but decided that I didn't like it enough and that it was too late at night to be objective about it and yadda yadda yadda. But now I've fixed it up and hopefully made it more exciting :)
> 
> It's inspired by Dev's 'Kiss my Lips' the DJ Kue remix (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mxvhuBHH5Jg) not really my kind of music but a girl I work with plays this song all the time and the first time I heard it something about it made me think of E/R and this fic kinda started forming in my head so I figured: what the hell let's write it!
> 
> Enjoy! Hopefully..

Grantaire snakes his way through the claustrophobically packed crowd, occasionally getting jostled by the overenthusiastic dancers who try to grind up against him rather than let him pass through. He ignores these individuals and continues to navigate a path through them with a slight smile on his lips. Usually he can’t stand the humid, sweaty atmosphere of nightclubs or the obnoxiously loud bass beat that makes up every single techno song blaring from the speakers, but tonight he’s feeling oddly cheerful. He obviously needs a drink.

Courfeyrac is somewhere in the crowd, probably wedged between some other enthusiastic dancers. Jehan is as well, though his version of hitting the club is to stand in the midst of convulsing bodies and watch everything with misty eyes, making an awkward participant to the people around him. Grantaire imagines Bahorel has already been kicked out for starting a brawl and Marius and Cosette are probably in a corner somewhere, joining in with their own form of dancing which basically involves a lot of tongue. Feuilly is most likely at the bar- keeping himself far away from the dance floor but close to the singles getting drinks.

Grantaire reaches the bar himself eventually, slapping his hands down against the sticky bench top in quiet victory. The bar tender nods when he recognizes him and slides a whiskey and coke across the table top without a word. Grantaire picks the tumbler up, appreciating the familiar weight of his favourite drink in his hand and the clink of whiskey rocks against glass, and takes a sip of the deep amber liquid before turning to lean his back against the bar and survey the club around him.

He’s almost to the bottom of his drink when he feels a tap on his shoulder. Turning, Grantaire raises his eyebrows at the familiar blond standing before him, looking around rather awkwardly.

‘Enjolras? Hi, you alone?’ Grantaire asks, or rather shouts given the noise, as he downs the rest of his drink and places it back onto the bar, nodding to the bar tender as he does. Enjolras accepts one of the whiskey and cokes that the man brings as he sits himself down on the barstool beside Grantaire and replies,

‘I’m fairly sure I’m not alone as the majority of my friends are already here,’ the sarcasm is hardly even tangible through his exhausted sigh. Grantaire raises an eyebrow as he watches Enjolras take a sip of his drink.

‘I mean Combeferre didn’t come with you?’ he says, deciding to let the other’s snippiness slide.

‘Oh,’ Enjolras says as he pulls the glass away from his mouth, ‘right. No, he’s got an exam tomorrow so he’s studying,’

‘Exam? Shit. So why aren’t you studying?’ somehow the idea of Combeferre tucked away in his apartment studying _without_ Enjolras is unnatural and, coincidentally, it’s also highly unusual. Yet the comment makes Enjolras smile.

‘I’ve just come from my last exam actually,’ _Ah, hence the exhaustion_ Grantaire thinks to himself. He probably hasn’t slept properly for about a week so it’s no surprise that the professional student is feeling a little extra grumpy tonight.

‘Congrats, Apollo. If that doesn’t deserve a drink I don’t know what does,’ Grantaire tells him as they clink glasses. Enjolras nods his appreciation, the smile still playing on his lips.

The drink slowly relaxes him and Grantaire watches happily as the tension in his body loosens and he nods along to the beat of the music a little. Various friends stop by with congratulations of their own before they melt back into the crowd with drinks in hand but the two of them stay at the bar. They stray into a few heated arguments and awkward topics but mostly manage to keep things light, teasing and generally harmonious. It’s probably the friendliest conversation they’ve had since Enjolras started swotvac.

Eventually Grantaire reaches the stage of tipsiness that usually results in his arguments with Enjolras becoming embarrassingly ridiculous and, given that so far he hasn’t been a huge pain in the ass, he gets up to go.

‘You leaving?’ Enjolras asks with a frown as he gets to his feet as well. Grantaire nods as he puts his empty glass back onto the bar along with the cash that he owes for their drinks,

‘Yeah, it’s getting’ kinda late,’

‘It’s half past 12,’

‘Hey sorry, party animal, some of us need our beauty sleep,’ Grantaire replies, with perhaps a little more sass than his sober self would like, raising his hands defensively. But as he steps back he accidentally bumps into some guy behind him, some very big guy. It’s almost cinematic, the way the leather clad, muscle man freezes before slowly rotating to look down at Grantaire with wild (and very drunk) eyes. ‘Fuck, sorry man I didn’t mean to bump you,’ he says it as earnestly as he can manage, eyeing the guy’s clenched fist warily. It earns him a brutal shove on the shoulder but thankfully nothing worse. Enjolras catches him, as he stumbles back, and pulls him closer, away from the pressing crowds, his hand on Grantaire’s hip as he steadies him.

‘Bastard,’ mutters Enjolras darkly as he watches the other man vanish into the tide of bodies, ‘You ok?’ he asks, ducking his head slightly to look the other man in the eye.

‘’M fine. I’ve had worse,’ Grantaire chuckles, though he can feel his shoulder throbbing- there’s probably already a bruise- and he massages it gently. Enjolras nods, looking at him a little warily his eyes roaming over Grantaire’s face as if looking for something.

The silence between them becomes awkward after a few moments like this and Grantaire silently thanks the dim lighting of the club as he feels a blush creep up his neck. He’s all too aware of the hand that’s still resting on his hip. Eventually he lets his eyes dart down to glance at that hand, confirming that yes it’s there, before glancing up at Enjolras. Does he notice?

The other man returns his gaze with a slight smile and tightens his grip, ever so slightly, for a moment. Yep. He knows. Grantaire feels warmth spread its way through him at the sigh of that teasing yet sweet smile and can’t help the shy one that tugs at his own lips.

His attention is caught by the sudden silence mid song before the electronic beat begins to blare out again, more ferociously than before, and now he can’t help noticing the lyrics that pump through his ears:

_'Get your hand off my hip, and kiss my lips_

_Kiss my lips, kiss me all over_

_Are you gonna take that risk, take that risk_

_‘Cause we’re only getting’ older'_

But noticing this makes him all the more awkward and he can feel the blush deepen as he goes to pull away from the touch. Enjolras lets him, Grantaire’s body slips away from his fingers as he moves to be swallowed up by the crowd. Enjolras watches the dark curls disappear, silently cursing his loss of courage, before springing after him.

Grantaire is shrugging on his jacket right outside the doors, when Enjolras has finally managed to fight his way out of the nightclub, and he doesn’t notice the other man’s arrival as he lights up a cigarette. They both feel calmer in the cold night air, without the music beating through their bodies and snatches of conversation or music blasting in their ears.

 Enjolras winds his scarf slowly around his neck before taking a breath and approaching Grantaire. He can’t find the words to say anything and instead silently slides his arm around his waist.

Grantaire only gets a second to recognize the familiar face before Enjolras’ lips are moving against his own. He’s surprised, but only for a moment, and then he’s pulling himself closer with a hand tangled in the blond curls as the dull thump of bass, issuing from deep within the club, beats out his pulse. A hiss escapes his lips as he feels Enjolras’ shoulder press too firmly against his own, putting pressure on his fresh bruise. Enjolras pulls away immediately,

‘I guess we should get you home… put some ice on your shoulder,’ he says, kind of awkwardly. His whiskey infused mind hadn’t really thought through what should happen after he built up the courage to kiss Grantaire and now he feels a flutter of panic rush through him- he really should have read up on this a little before hand. But Grantaire, still smiling, only nods and leans into his side as they start walking. Enjolras smiles as well, slipping an arm back around his waist to rest his hand firmly on Grantaire’s hip once more.

**Author's Note:**

> *swotvac is basically a study vacation/revision time before exams. That's what we call it in Australia and I figured I'd just roll with it since I didn't know what else to call it. (Coincidentally I'm currently on swotvac)


End file.
